The Other Eye
by Alayne Stone
Summary: Victarion Greyjoy finally decides to kill his brother Euron. Slash, incest, bad language, murder.


Cold winds and chilling waves besieged Pyke as Victarion crossed the bridge. He couldn't help but think of Balon's death. Was it a night like this? The thought made him uncomfortable, especially in the light of his current goal.

_The kinslayer is forever cursed._

But enough was enough. If he'd be cursed, be it – at least his people would be free of this abomination who calls himself King. Aeron always whined about the lack of faith in their brother, but Victarion couldn't care less. It was not Euron's heresy that awoke his burning hate.

The captain wrapped his cloak tighter around him. It was so cold he thought he'd soon be an ice state if he remained here, yet he still hesitated to enter the tower. _What if his wizards guard him? What if he's with a woman?_ Victarion didn't need witnesses.

He could've sent someone else. But he didn't trust they'd be successful and besides, if he finally decided to take the Drowned God's curse on himself and kill his brother, the right thing to do was to strike with his own hand. _I won't hide behind assassins. That would be cowardly. And I want to _see_ you die. I want to see as the light vanishes from your eyes. I want…_

He forced himself to stop thinking. _Do it now, or run away. Don't worry now what will happen after it._

He entered the tower.

The corridors were dim-lit with a few torches, and something kept him from going in by the door. Euron could know. He could feel something. He could hear the door squeaking.

Victarion entered an empty room and stepped out on the balcony. Euron's room was three windows away. He had to climb over. The walls offered enough support and he grew up in the rigging. But would he manage it in this wind? He was no longer a boy and it had been long since he last climbed the mast. He couldn't do that in the full armor he usually wore.

He looked down. He couldn't even see the water in the deep, only some faint, distant glints.

He put down his cloak, took his dagger between his teeth and began to climb.

_If I fall, the Drowned God wants Euron on the throne. If I make it, he approves my intentions._

The black stone was slippery and rough. It chafed his hands but he didn't let go. He found a ledge, not too wide but enough to hold himself up. Slowly. Carefully. _If you die, he'll laugh. _

Hours later – or so it seemed – he grabbed the windowsill. It was open. Euron didn't seem to be bothered by the cold.

Sitting on the windowsill he rested for a while, now holding his dagger in his hand. The room was dark. He could hear Euron's breath, calm and even. _He's asleep or he's faking it really well._

Victarion knew his brother well enough not to believe him too easily.

One minute later he was in the room, silent as a cat.

As his eyes got used to the darkness, now he saw Euron on his large bed, sleeping naked, his crimson covers tossed aside.

_Good. Your blood will match them._

He stalked closer and closer, holding the dagger so tightly his knuckles were white.

Euron had no weapon within his reach. Outside, the wind shred the clouds to pieces and a ray of pale moonlight found its way to the room.

Victarion climbed on the bed and over his sleeping brother who still didn't wake. He knew he should stab, right now, he shouldn't wait, yet he hesitated.

_You can stab at the slightest movement_, he assured himself. He held the dagger to Euron's chest, wondering how could his closeness and his hot breath not wake him yet.

He wanted him to wake. He wanted to look in his eyes. He wanted to tell him how much he hated him.

In the dim light he watched him with immense bitterness. That ever-young face, the jet black hair and beard with not a single silver strand. The conceited, cocky smile that never vanished, not even when he was dreaming. The eyepatch that made him even more handsome. The blue lips…

_Monster. Godless, murderous bastard. You took my wife, just as you always took everything from me. Not because you really wanted it, no… just to infuriate me, then you watched and laughed. You made a pact with wizards and demons to keep yourself young and beautiful while I grew bitter and my hair is graying… I'll wipe that smile from your face, Euron. You'll die spitting blood._

Right in the moment when he moved his hand, Euron opened his good eye. Blue like sapphires. Victarion was lost in that blueness. He froze.

Euron's smile was just as mocking as ever. He didn't seem surprised at all.

„So you finally grew some balls, brother? Why do you hesitate?"

That voice, that velvety voice dripping with poison…

„The kinslayer is forever cursed" he murmured but he still held the dagger.

„If that old superstition would really bother you, you wouldn't be here." Euron's hand moved to stroke his face and he gave a little laugh when he felt him flinching. „Do it. I am unarmed. Pierce my heart like you always wanted." His fingers caressed Victarion's hair. The captain always wore it longer than Euron, and although he often fumed about the silver streaks, many women found it alluring.

„You killed Balon."

„Of course I did."

„You raped my wife." _Please, say you raped her. Say that you lied. She couldn't have loved you._

„Wrong this time. I already told you. She came to me wet and willing. She told me your cock was way smaller than-"

Victarion slapped him with all his strength.

Euron didn't stop smiling although a little stream of blood came at the corner of his mouth.

„You hurt me, my dear dear brother" he purred. „Yet you can't bring yourself to kill me."

The knife's tip scratched his skin but didn't go deeper. Victarion looked at the few drops of blood as if spellbound. Suddenly, he didn't feel cold anymore. A heat flushed though his body.

„Do you _want_ to die, Euron?"

„What is dead can never die, just ask Damphair. Who told you I was a living man?" Euron said mockingly. „The question is what _you_ want. I think I know. You say you want to stick your blade in me… I'll tell you what your problem is, Victarion. You hate me because you wanted to be like me but never dared."

Victarion still held him down, his stern face showed no mercy.

„You're not going to talk yourself out of this."

Euron grabbed his hair, not ungently, and one blue eye met a pair of coal black.

„Then do what you really came for."

Victarion let him pull his head down. The kiss came all too sudden and it was sweeter than it should have been. Sweet like honey, salty like blood. _This is wrong, wrong, even worse than kinslaying. I mustn't feel lust for my own brother._

But he did, and he had to confess himself his hate and envy had always been saturated with a twisted desire. He just exiled that thought somewhere deep. Nothing was wrong with fucking a man, all sailors did at times, but Euron was his brother._ It's blasphemy. My soul will be forever damned. I shall never enter the Drowned God's watery halls… but damn if I stop now._

He put the dagger aside and grabbed Euron's wrists.

„I will fuck you till you scream, and I will still kill you after it."

„You talk too much. Now let me help." He let go, still suspicious. Euron's hands slipped on his chest and began to unlace his doublet.

Victarion wasn't gentle. He didn't even know what that meant. And by the time he got rid of his clothes, he was as hard as a rock.

Euron laughed. He laughed when Victarion brutally entered him although it must have been hurt. The captain wondered how many men fucked the Crow's Eye and lived to boast about it.

„Oh, little brother, how clumsy you are" Euron chuckled. „No wonder you can't keep your women."

Victarion grabbed his dagger as fast as a snake strikes and held it to Euron's throat.

„Say that again" he said in a hoarse voice.

„Would you kill me before coming? Didn't know you liked fucking corpses."

_Why can't I just kill this man_, Victarion mused for the dozenth time this night.

He wanted to hurt him, but the son of a bitch enjoyed it. Euron covered him with kisses and his strong hands fondled him gently, instinctively knowing how and where he liked it. Or maybe he knew it from the women they shared. He was better than the dusky woman, better than his dead wife, better than any woman or ship's boy he fucked. Who could ever withstand the charm of Crow's Eye?

The dagger fell again. His hands moved to give back some of the pleasure he was taking. _What am I doing? I don't want him to _like_ it!_

But it was too good, and the delight on Euron's face couldn't be a lie. He was now twice grateful they were alone. Euron moaned and the captain cried out in ecstasy, again and again.

Tired and sated, they lay beside each other, Euron rested his head on Victarion's chest and embraced him. He was dozing again, or so it seemed.

_Now how could I kill him?_

He knew the answer and it was painful. _You will never kill him. You are his shadow, his sword, his plaything, now and ever. You topped but just because it pleased your king. He wasn't humiliated in the least, he defeated you and laughed at you._

What was he without Euron? What would he do after killing him? Take the throne? He was made to fight, not to rule. He thought of Robert Baratheon. A simple fighter like him, a great warrior – a bad king.

On the other hand, leaving now and letting this continue was impossible. Not after what they did.

Euron would make fun of him before his men. He would laugh. He would want more.

Victarion reached out for the dagger but couldn't find it. The bed was big and they made quite a mess. Perhaps it was under the sheets. He didn't dare to get up, lest Euron would wake.

_He should never wake. Stop pondering. Finish him, then…_

He thought of the abyss under the window, the ice cold water that swallowed Balon.

There was another little thing he wanted to know, though.

„Euron!"

„Yes, brother?"

Of course he wasn't asleep. His voice sounded way too fresh.

„I always wondered what really was under your eyepatch."

Euron smiled but now it was not his usual frivolous smile. It was terrifying.

„Are you sure you want to see it?"

„Yes."

Euron sat up, kneeling over Victarion just before he did over him when he arrived. He slowly undid the eyepatch's black silk ribbons and let it fall.

Victarion stared at him petrified. The other eye was not blind, nor was it natural in any way. Deep red like the blood that painted Euron's ship, bottomless, unholy, enchanting. It held him captive. He was helpless, he, the strong and mighty killer who knew no fear. Magic, he thought. Some ungodly magic. He couldn't turn away, he couldn't break free.

From the corner of his eye he saw a cold metallic glimpse. Then the dagger pierced his chest.

The magic broke. He gasped with the pain and wanted to scream, to curse him, but only a gurgling sigh came out. With every breath blood squirted from his mouth. Euron held him, caressed his face and hair, and smiled.

„You poor fool" he said with a certain sadness in his voice. „I will miss you."

When he laid him back gently, he shook his head.

„What were you thinking, dear brother?"

Victarion didn't hear the question anymore, nor did he feel when the blue lips touched his blood-splattered ones for a farewell kiss.


End file.
